Mark Twain on Cauliflower

"Training is everything. The peach was once a bitter almond; cauliflower is nothing but cabbage with a college education."

Mark Twain, from Pudd'nhead Wilson.


This is a very misquoted quote.

Most people only quote the second half, and are under the impression that Mark Twain was denigrating cauliflower. On the contrary! He was extolling the virtues of a college education. The cauliflower was the most expensive, festive and glamourous of vegetables on the Victorian table, and cabbage was pretty much what it is today, only more so; a sturdy staple of everyday cooking.

They are indeed technically the same plant, brassica oleracea, but growing cauliflower is considerably more of a challenge. This fellow insists it's easy; then gives a list of instructions as long as my arm. I'm not convinced! In Victorian times, cauliflower was even more work, as self-blanching types had not been developed yet. The leaves had to be tied up over the developing cauliflower to keep it white and moist. Producing it throughout the season required a somewhat complex system of starting it the fall before and keeping it in coldframes or greenhouses over the winter.

In short, cauliflower was not to be had by just anybody, nor for a few pennies. It was the queen of vegetables, and was often steamed whole and served elaborately garnished. Cabbage, on the other hand, was on everybody's plate... it was just a working stiff, without the benefit of a college education.

A Visit to Floralane Farm

Last week when we went to the Elmira Farmers Market, we also went to Floralane Farm, which is just north of Elmira on the main road (Arthur Street). It's very well marked from the road, you can't miss it.



They have a large sign by the road, with their seasonally changing list of available fruits and veggies.



They have tomatoes and cucumbers nearly all year long; they are grown in their greenhouses.



The night before we were there, a major thunderstorm had passed through, causing considerable damage to grain fields, and leaving a sea of mud behind.


Inside the greenhouse, though, everything was clean and orderly.



The greenhouses are orderly too, in a jungly sort of way.


The tomatoes are planted in the white covered ridges, but they give the impression of being suspended and growing down from the ceiling.



Just outside the main greenhouse is a sorting and packing area.



There is a little outbuilding which has been set up as a market. In addition to all the fruits and veggies that they sell, there is a fair selection of hanging baskets and potted plants.


Inside the market; in addition to their field grown vegetables you can buy their tomatoes - "seconds" are half the price of the first quality ones, and that simply means they have not achieved perfection of shape. We got a couple and they were delicious sliced up in sandwiches. They also had honey, and maple syrup, and the excellent local summer sausage hung up in bags along the back of the room.


A view of the hanging baskets and pots on the porch of the store.



On Fridays and Saturdays there is also a selection of pies available. Elderberry is a popular fruit with the Mennonites, and one you don't see too much of otherwise.



One last view over the ornamental flower beds towards the greenhouses as we left. We'll be back!




Last year on this date I made Adobo Chicken, Roasted Asparagus with Anise Seeds, Strawberry Lemonade Concentrate and Berry Vinegars. Busy little bee, wasn't I?

Buttered Minted Peas with Rice

I only took a pictures of this as a matter of habit, since I thought it was an awfully basic thing that I likely wouldn't post. But we thought it was fabulous! And why shouldn't it be; it's full of fresh PEAS! This is turning out not to be the best summer for strawberries, given all the rain and lack of heat that we have had, but the good news is that those conditions should make it a bumper year for PEAS! Yes, I know I'm shouting, I can't help myself - I loves me some PEAS! Mint and peas are classic, and so are rice and peas, and they merge to make a very good trio.

3 to 4 servings
45 minutes - 30 minutes prep time


1 cup sushi-type rice
1 1/3 cup water
1/4 teaspoon salt

2 cups shelled peas (1 quart or 1 litre in the pod)
1 tablespoon butter
1 tablespoon minced fresh mint leaves
black pepper to taste

Shell most of the peas before you start cooking the rice - they do take a while.

Put the rice, water and salt in a rice cooker. It's a good idea to rinse the rise first, and let it drain for about 10 minutes, although I have to admit I often forget. Start it up.

When the rice has cooked for about 10 minutes, or more precisely, when the rice is looking well on the way to being cooked, with just a skim of water over the surface, and still boiling fairly steadily, add the peas and 2/3 of the butter and mint to the pot.

When the rice cooker has turned itself off, let it sit for about 5 minutes. Add the remaining butter and mint along with a good grind of black pepper, and stir it up. Serve hot.




Last year on this date I made Basic Basil Pesto. Which seems a bit early; but everything was a bit early last year whereas this year things seem to be a tad late.

Chinese Green Onion Panbread, or Tsung Yu Ping

These are often available as dim sum, but they are surprisingly easy to make at home in spite of the length of the instructions. They do require some advance planning, as the dough needs to rest. Otherwise, it is a very simple dough to handle, and pretty foolproof. The technique of rolling and coiling the dough intersperses the dough with fat and just a touch of air. The end result is a rich, flakey-chewy panbread spiked with bits of green onion.

You can also use chives or garlic chives, in which case it becomes some other sort of Ping, but still awfully good. I used bacon fat for mine, but I would like to try them with some of the lovely local sunflower seed oil I've been getting lately. Some recipes include sesame seeds; I think they would be great with chopped up sunflower seeds as well as the sunflower oil.

6 panbreads
40 minutes to roll and cook, plus 10 minutes to mix the dough and an hour or more to rest the dough



To Make the Dough:
2 cups hard unbleached flour (bread flour)
1 cup hard whole wheat flour (bread flour)
1 cup boiling water
1/3 cup cold water

Put the flour in a bowl and slowly add the boiling water, stirring it with a fork, until it has absorbed as much as it can. Repeat with the cold water, then turn the mixture out onto a clean board or counter, and knead it for about 5 minutes, until all the flour is amalgamated, and you have a smooth, not too sticky dough. Dust your hands and the board with a little flour if needed. Wrap the dough in plastic or parchment paper, and let it rest for at least an hour to overnight.

To Make the Pan Breads:
3 to 4 green onions (12 tablespoons minced)
a little more flour to roll
9 to 10 teaspoons bacon fat or butter, or vegetable oil
1/2 teaspoon sea salt

Wash the green onions, and cut off the white portions, which should be reserved for another use. Chop the green sections finely, and keep them aside in a little bowl.

Divide the dough into 6 equal sections. Roll each one out on a floured board, dusting the board and roller as needed to keep the dough from sticking. It should be rolled out to a roughly rectangular shape, and quite thin.

Spread each rolled-out section with 1 teaspoon of bacon fat, butter or good vegetable oil, then sprinkle with 2 tablespoons of the minced green onions, and a pinch of salt. Starting from one of the long edges, roll the dough into a cylinder, enclosing the onions. Try not to get too much air trapped in there, although a little bit is fine. Pinch the seam and ends closed, then coil your tube into a snail shaped round. Pinch it to seal it together, and make it form a nice flattish circle. Roll it out, again dusting with a little flour, until it forms a circle of about 1/4" thick. Repeat with all the remaining sections.

Heat a 2 teaspoons of bacon fat or vegetable oil, or a combination in a large skillet over medium heat. Cook each pan bread on each side, until golden-brown with toasted brown spots on each side - not likely more than 2 minutes per side. Cut each round into quarters to serve. Add a little more fat or oil to the pan as you start new panbreads if the bottom of it is no longer covered.

Keep them warm in the oven until wanted, if you are cooking them all at once. I would think they would freeze very well when raw though, and that may be a good idea since they are rich and filling. Just keep them well wrapped in plastic, and thaw them out in the fridge overnight before cooking them.

Chicken Broth & Miso Soup with Veggies

Here's a very fast, easy soup, good to make the whole year round. It's a simple broth of chicken stock and miso, to which you can add an assortment of vegetables, according to your taste and their availability. A big bowl is a light meal in itself, or serve it in smaller portions to start a meal.

I like to use a combination of a root vegetable, such as turnip, potatoes, carrots, etc, diced and cooked for about 5 minutes, then add a green leafy vegetable such as spinach, chard, kale, or other greens, which will cook much more quickly. Don't use much more than a cup of the root vegetables, and the rest in leafy greens that will cook down. It's best to chop the leafy greens a bit.

I find this soup plain but satisfying, with simple but robust flavours.

2 to 4 servings
20 minutes - 15 minutes prep time


2 to 6 cups prepared vegetables, see above
2 cups water
3 to 4 cups chicken stock
2 to 3 tablespoons miso
black pepper to taste

Clean and prepare your vegetables, by washing, peeling, and chopping them as necessary.

Heat the two cups of water and add the vegetables in the order and at the time necessary to cook them to be done together - in general, 5 minutes or less. I used diced white turnips, cooked for about 5 minutes, then added spinach to cook for less than 2 minutes more.

When your vegetables are done to your liking, add the chicken stock and miso, and heat through. Taste the soup, and adjust the seasoning with a little black pepper, and a pinch more miso if required.

Summer Savory

Summer savory is one of my favourite herbs, fresh or dried. It's impressively versatile, with a strong but never overwhelming sprightly flavour. Just be sure you have summer savory, and not the stronger, more bitter winter savory.

Winter savory is perennial, but summer savory is an annual, and thus must be sown every year. I bought a few fresh sprigs at a local Mennonite farm, however I usually use it dried. The easiest good-quality dried savory to be found around here is Mt. Scio Farms savory, grown in Newfoundland. It's said that the very mineral soil of Newfoundland makes for excellent savory, and I can't argue; it's head and shoulders above any other I've had. I bet it would do well in northern Ontario for the same reasons.

Savory, like parsley, is not the easiest of herbs to grow. Like parsley, it will eventually germinate, so be patient. Once it is going it is fine, but it is a slow starter, that should be seeded indoors in the late winter or early spring, and potted up before finally moving it outdoors. Because it is slow growing, it will require assiduous weeding. Once it is fully grown, it should be a spreading plant over a foot in height, with small purple flowers in July.

I was amused to see that in Bulgaria it is often used in conjunction with paprika, which is a combination I really, really like. I'm a Bulgarian cook and didn't even know it? In reality, though, I think my fondness for summer savory springs from my maritime province roots, where it is probably the most popular herb in use.

In Germany, savory is known as "the bean herb" and used to season beans both freshly green and dried. Vesey's says to use it in "teas, herb butter, flavoured vinegars, soups, and, of course, poultry stuffings." I would add casseroles, stews, to season baked poultry or fish, salad dressings, and vegetables to that list. Sounds like savory is good with just about anything... savoury.

Beets with Their Greens in a Dill Sauce

When I was a kid I always watched the purchase of beets with mixed feelings. I liked the beet greens, but I hated the beets. Fortunately, apart from one ill-advised incident, my parents did not attempt to make me eat the beets. Eventually I decided they were not so bad and in the last few years I have been making an attempt to eat them semi-regularly. Here they are, served together in a dill sauce.

4 servings
1 hour - 15 minutes prep time


4 to 5 medium-small beets, with their greens

1 teaspoon dill seed
OR dried dill weed,
OR 1 tablespoon minced fresh dill
1/2 teaspoon black peppercorns, crushed
1/4 teaspoon celery seed, crushed
1/2 teaspoon sea salt
1 teaspoon arrowroot or cornstarch
3 tablespoons apple cider vinegar
1 tablespoon apple butter

Cut the beets from the greens about an inch above the base. Wash them, but don't trim them. Put them in a pot with plenty of water to cover them, and bring them to a boil. Boil them for about 30 minutes, until tender. This can be done in advance; they should at least be cooled enough to handle.

Grind the spices (or mince the dill) and mix them with the cornstarch, vinegar and applebutter. Keep them standing by.

Wash the greens, and pick them over. Chop them coarsely. Put them in a pot with a tablespoon or two of water, and steam them until just limp. Meanwhile, peel the beets and dice them fairly coarsely.

If there is any excess moisture on the beet greens, drain them, and add the diced beets and the seasoning mixture. Return them to the heat and cook for about 5 minutes, stirring, until the sauce thickens. Serve hot.

French Breakfast Radishes

Radishes are one of the first vegetables to appear in the late spring to early summer, since they mature in three weeks to a month from planting. These ones are the very popular and recognizable French Breakfast radish; long and narrow with red shoulders fading to white bottoms. Why they are called French Breakfast I cannot say, and it doesn't seem like anyone else can either, although the suggestion is that if anyone ate them for breakfast, it was the Pennsylvania Dutch. These are an heirloom variety, available for well over a hundred years, but still very widely available.

At any rate, these are a nice, moderate radish, with a good crunch and a spicy but not overwhelming bite, although like all radishes as much will depend on the weather as the variety. Radishes do well with cool to warm springlike temperatures, and if grown during very hot weather are likely to end up woody or spongy in texture and harsh in flavour. This has been an excellent spring for radishes.

Pick radishes that are small to medium in size; large ones may be overmature and suffer from the problems listed above. They will keep very well if separated from the green tops, and kept dry in a plastic bag. The greens are edible too (see some of my radish recipes) but will not keep fresh for more than a day or so.

A very popular way to eat radishes is on bread with butter, plain or herbed, and topped with slices of radish and a sprinkle of sea salt. Lovely and simple; like all such simple things it requires that each ingredient be of the best and freshest.

Happy Canada Day

We celebrated with some strawberries and cream, and shortly we will walk out to the park to watch fireworks.

No recipe needed, but note this well: use good little strawberries - stay away from the big fat California-style monstrosities, whether grown here or not *- and good whipping cream, preferably organic. Avoid, like the plague that they are, any so-called whipped cream that comes in a spray tin, or even worse (at least so far as flavour is concerned) any substance described as an "edible oil product."



* And sorrowful it is to say, they are being grown here more and more. FIGHT, PEOPLE, FIGHT! Fight for your right to eat REAL strawberries. Shun the "shippers". Get the "eaters".

A Visit to the Elmira Farmers Market

By the end of June the produce is flowing into farmers markets, and so it's time to be seriously checking them out again. This Saturday morning we headed up to the Elmira Farmers Market. It's located in a parking lot just off the north-east corner of the main streets of Church and Arthur, on Maple Street.


Most of the vendors are local Mennonites, who arrive by horse and buggy.


The local home hardware has a presence there as well. I was a bit startled by the prospect of winning an excavator - although one would certainly be handy thing to have, no doubt - until I realized that they meant one of the large toy wooden ones around the other side of their booth.


All kinds of seasonal goodies: rhubarb, asparagus, lettuce, spinach, kohlrabi, beets, strawberries and green onions.


It's time to get things going in the garden too! With the cool damp weather we've been having so far, it's a good year to get plants into the garden.


It's not a large market, although I am told that as the season progresses, it will get larger. It doesn't have dairy products, and I didn't see any eggs. However, this is a terrific market for produce - you are pretty likely to get everything that is grown around the area.


There was one booth - F & M Meats - selling frozen pork products. We got some sausage, which was delicious; very lean, not spicy but well flavoured.


If you did not find everything you wanted at the market, there are a number of farms in the area selling from their farm gate. This one is Edward Martin, 144 South Field Drive, where we got some excellent eggs as well as some peas, which for some reason were not at the market that Saturday. All in all, a very succesful market day in spite of the threatening grey weather.

I forgot to take a picture but in additon to the eggs and peas above, we bought a pound of pork sausage (gone already!) radishes, turnips, kohlrabi, strawberries (gone already!) lettuce, beets, and some sprigs of summer savory.




Last year at this time I made Gumbo 'Zerbes - an excellent way to use up greens from trimmings or garden thinnings.

Peas with Garlic Scapes & Cream

Fresh shelled peas are just amazing. I mostly eat them plain, with a little butter and salt, but every so often I feel obliged to get a little fancier. These were worth the effort.

2 servings
40 minutes - 25 minutes prep time


1 litre (1 quart) unshelled peas (2 cups shelled peas)

2 garlic scapes
1 teaspoon minced fresh savory
1 tablespoon butter
1/4 teaspoon sea salt
freshly ground black pepper
1/4 cup heavy cream
1/2 teaspoon flour

Shell the peas, and put them in a pot with water to just cover.

Chop the garlic scapes finely, and mince the savory.

Turn the peas on to cook over medium-high heat; about 10 minutes. Meanwhile, heat the butter in a small skillet, and add the chopped garlic scapes and the savory. Cook over low heat until soft and slightly coloured; about 10 minutes. Have the flour mixed into the cream, standing by.

Drain the peas well and add them to the skillet with the cream. Cook for another 5 minutes until just thickened. Serve at once.



A year ago today I posted about visiting the Cambridge Farmers Market, as well as Beets in Mint-Anise Dressing and Peas & Radish Salad.

Hunger

Hunger

Hunger makes a person lie down --
He has water in his knees.
Hunger makes a person lie down
And count the rafters in his roof.
When the Muslim is not hungry he says:
We are forbidden to eat monkey.
When he is hungry he eats a baboon.
Hunger will drive the Muslim woman from the harem
Out into the street,
Hunger will persuade the priest
To steal from his own shrine.
"I have eaten yesterday"
Does not concern hunger.
There is no god like one's stomach:
We must sacrifice to it every day.

Yoruba Oral Poem


I recorded this poem a number of years ago into a binder in which I keep bits of poetry which catch my interest; unfortunately I did not record the title of the book that it came from, although I do remember that it was a collection of oral poetry from around the world.

I tend to write about the happy side of food here. I enjoy eating - well, we mostly all do, don't we? especially when we get to eat what we want - and I enjoy experimenting with it and sharing it with others. It gets harder and harder, though, to forget how incredibly fortunate I am to be in the time and place that I am. I get to struggle with the problems and temptations of having too much food; lucky me.

The unhappy side of food, of course, is that inadequate quantities (and quality) prove fatal. Inevitably, when hunger jumps from the individual level to the community level, it starts with a natural trigger (crop failures, generally) but is in fact a human-created disaster; war, politics, bureaucracy and ideology, complacency and indifference, environmental degradation, already existing poverty and lack of resources, and poor agricultural practices all take a far larger toll than mere weather or disease ever could.

If you are looking for poetry and writing about famine in English - and an exemplary model for just about every subsequent famine - the Irish potato famine of the 1840's is the place to look.

Famine & Exportation

Take it from us, every grain,
We were made for you to drain;
Black starvation let us feel,
England must not want a meal!

When our rotting roots shall fail,
When the hunger pangs assail,
Ye'll have of Irish corn your fill --
We'll have grass and nettles still!

We are poor, and ye are rich;
Mind it not, were every ditch
Strewn in spring with famished corpses,
Take our oats to feed your horses!

Heaven, that tempers ill with good,
When it smote our wonted food,
Sent us bounteous growth of grain --
Sent to pauper slaves, in vain!

We but asked in deadly need:
'Ye that rule us! Let us feed
On the food that's ours' ~ behold!
Adder deaf and icy cold.

Were we Russians, thralls from birth,
In a time of winter dearth
Would a Russian despot see
From his land its produce flee?

Were we black Virginian slaves,
Bound and bruised with thongs and staves,
Avarice and selfish dread
Would not let us die unfed.

Were we, Saints of Heaven! were we
How we burn to think it -- FREE!
Not a grain should leave our shore,
Not for England's golden store.

They who hunger where it grew --
They whom Heaven had sent it to --
They who reared with sweat of brow --
They or none should have it now.

Lord that made us! What it is
To endure a lot like this!
Powerless in our worst distress,
Cramped by alien selfishness!

Not amongst our rulers all,
One true heart whereon to call;
Vainly still we turn to them
Who despoil us and contemn.

Forced to see them, day by day,
Snatch our sole resource away;
If returned a pittance be --
Alms, 'tis named, and beggars, we.

Lord! thy guiding wisdom grant,
Fearful counselor is WANT;
Burning thoughts will rise within,
Keep us pure from stain of sin!
But, at least, like trumpet blast,
Let it rouse us all at last;
Ye who cling to England's side!
Here and now, you see her tried.

John O'Hagan


In 1840, the population of Ireland was about 8 million. By 1855, it was closer to 5 million. About a million (or rather more; no one is quite sure) of the difference had died; another 2 million had emigrated. The currant population of Ireland and Northern Ireland is about 6 million. Certainly, I remember travelling to Ireland in the 1970's and seeing the decaying cottages which had never been re-inhabited. (Although Germans were starting to buy them up cheaply to rebuild for summer cottages.)

The Irish potato famine also left an enormous mark on Canada - we think of ourselves as founded as a country by the English (and French) but many Scots were driven here by the highland clearances, and large numbers of those 2 million Irish immigrants came to Canada. (I number both groups amongst my ancestors.) Emigration was no guarantee of survival. The immigrants were weak and ill, and many died during the journey. To this day, you will find francophone Canadians with Irish surnames - surviving children were readily adopted by the French-Canadians, who identified with the Irish troubles as fellow Catholics and fellow victims of British colonialism.

And the Irish potato famine still resonates, as with this recent poem, which I recently found on the blog Poem of the Week:


Quarantine

In the worst hour of the worst season
of the worst year of a whole people
a man set out from the workhouse with his wife.
He was walking – they were both walking – north.

She was sick with famine fever and could not keep up.
He lifted her and put her on his back.
He walked like that west and west and north.
Until at nightfall under freezing stars they arrived.

In the morning they were both found dead.
Of cold. Of hunger. Of the toxins of a whole history.
But her feet were held against his breastbone.
The last heat of his flesh was his last gift to her.

Let no love poem ever come to this threshold.
There is no place here for the inexact
praise of the easy graces and sensuality of the body.
There is only time for this merciless inventory:

Their death together in the winter of 1847.
Also what they suffered. How they lived.
And what there is between a man and woman.
And in which darkness it can best be proved.

Eavan Boland


How accurate are my numbers of the dead in the Irish famine? Not very, history counts its skeletons in round numbers...


Hunger Camp at Jaslo

Write it. Write. In ordinary ink
on ordinary paper: they were given no food,
they all died of hunger. “All. How many?
It’s a big meadow. How much grass
for each one?” Write: I don’t know.
History counts its skeletons in round numbers.
A thousand and one remains a thousand,
as though the one had never existed:
an imaginary embryo, an empty cradle,
an ABC never read,
air that laughs, cries, grows,
emptiness running down steps toward the garden,
nobody’s place in the line.

We stand in the meadow where it became flesh,
and the meadow is silent as a false witness.
Sunny. Green. Nearby, a forest
with wood for chewing and water under the bark-
every day a full ration of the view
until you go blind. Overhead, a bird-
the shadow of its life-giving wings
brushed their lips. Their jaws opened.
Teeth clacked against teeth.
At night, the sickle moon shone in the sky
and reaped wheat for their bread.
Hands came floating from blackened icons,
empty cups in their fingers.
On a spit of barbed wire,
a man was turning.
They sang with their mouths full of earth.
“A lovely song of how war strikes straight
at the heart.” Write: how silent.
“Yes.”

Wislawa Szymborska

Poetry and Being
(He Mahajiban)

No more of this poetry.
Bring on the hard, harsh prose instead.
Let the jingle of verse disappear
And the strong hammer of prose strike.
No need for the serenity of a poem;
Poetry, I give you a break today.
In the regime of hunger, the earth belongs to prose,
The full moon burns like a loaf of bread.

Sukanto Bhattacharya


The picture at the top of this post is of Bridget O'Donell and her children, from the London Illustrated News of December 22, 1849.